BOTTOMS  UP 


BOTTOMS     UP 

AN    APPLICATION    OF    THE 
SLAPSTICK     TO      SATIRE 

BY  GEORGE  JEAN  NATHAN 


NEW  YORK 
PHILIP  GOODMAN  COMPANY 

1917 


COPYRIGHT  1917  BY 
PHILIP  GOODMAN  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

I.     Continued  in  the  Advertising  Section       5 

II.     We  We  8 

III.     The  Queen  of  the  Veronal  Ring  13 
IV.     Who's  Who  in  America 

V.     A  Little  Child  Shall  Lead  Them  23 

VI.     The  Letters  27 

VII.     Promenades  With  Pantaloon  34 

VIII.     Fanny's  Second  Play  50 

IX.     Glossaries  59 

X.     Stories  of  the  Operas  63 

XI.     Three  Modern  Dramatists  66 

XII.     Villainy  67 

XIII.     A  French  Vest  Pocket  Dictionary  69 

XIV.     What  You  Get  for  Your  Money  72 


RG7699 


"CONTINUED  IN  ADVERTISING 
SECTION,  PAGE  290  " 

OR 
MAGAZINE  FICTION.. A  LA  MODl^:  f 

[Page  290 

Unable  to  contain  himself  longer,  although  he 
realized  the  vast  futility  of  it  all,  Massington 
seized  her  in  his  arms  and  buried  her  lovely  eyes 
and  hair  in  the  storm  of  a  thousand  kisses. 

"You  love  me,  Lolo — tell  me  you  love  me !"  he 
choked. 

"No!  no!"  she  cried,  struggling  from  his  clasp 
with  an  adorable  coquetry.     "No,  it  must  not  be." 
Massington,  for  the  moment,  found  himself  un 
able  to  speak.     Then,  "Why?"   he  asked  simply, 
softly. 

"Because,"  the  girl  replied,  with  a  cunning 
moue — "because 

[Page  291 

In  the  finest  homes  and  at  the  best- 
appointed  tables  CAMPBELL'S 
TOMATO  SOUP  is  recognized  as  a 
dinner  course  of  faultless  quality 
and  suited  to  the  most  important  oc 
casions. 

[Page  292 

I  don't  yet  know  my  own  mind,"  she  finished.  •*"" 
Massington  moved  toward  her.  The  amber 
glow  of  a  small  table  lamp  lighted  up  the  bronze 
glory  of  Lolo's  tumbled  tresses.  And  her  eyes 
were  as  twin  Chopin  nocturnes  dreaming  out  the 
melody  of  a  far-off,  unattainable  love. 


6  BOTTOMS   UP 

He  paused  before  daring  to  lift  his  voice  against 
the  wonderful  silence  that,  like  midnight  on  south 
ern  Pacific  seas;,  hung  over  her. 

Presently,  ^'Wheri  you  do  decide,  what  then?" 
he  ventured. 

"When  I  do  decide/'  she  told  him,  "it  will  be 
forever.  But  ere  I  give  you  my  answer,  ere  we 
take  the  step  that  must  mean  so  much  in  our 
lives,  we  must  both  be  strong  enough  to  remember 
that 

[Page  293 

RESICURA  SOAP 
gives  natural  beauty  to  skin  and 
hair.  It  is  not  only  cleansing  and 
softening,  but  its  regular  use  imparts 
that  natural  beauty  of  perfect  health 
which  even  the  best  of  cosmetics  can 
only  remotely  imitate.  For  trial 
cake,  send  four  cents  in  stamps  to 
Dept.  19-D,  Resicura  Company, 
Toledo,  Ohio. 

[Page  294 

Society  demands  certain  conventions  that  dare  not 
be  intruded  upon."  Lolo  toyed  with  some  roses 
on  the  table  at  her  side — roses  he  had  sent  her  that 
same  afternoon. 

"But,  darling,"  breathed  Massington,  "what  are 
mere  conventions  for  us  two  now?" 

Lolo  tore  at  one  of  the  roses  with  her  teeth. 
"Oh !"  she  exclaimed,  flinging  out  her  arm  wildly 
toward  the  ugly  green  wall-paper  of  her  room  that 
symbolized  everything  she  so  hated — "Oh,  I  know 
— I  know !  I  do  not  want  to  think  of  them,  but  I 
— but  we — must,  Jason  sweetheart,  we  must!  And 
life  so  all-wondrous,  beating  vainly  against  their 


BOTTOMS   UP  7 

iron  bars  and  looking  beyond  them  into  paradise. 
We  must  think  of  them/' — a  little  sob  crept  from 
her  throat, — "we  must  think  of  them !" 

"Let  us  think,  rather,"  said  Massington,  "of  that 
other  world  in  which  we  might  live,  to  which,  Lolo 
dear,  we  might  go,  and,  once  there,  be  away  from 
every  one,  all  alone,  we  two — just  you  and  I.  Let 
us  think  of  Spain,  shimmering  like  some  great 
topaz  under  the  tropic  sun;  of  the  Pyrenees  that, 
purpled  against  the  evening  heavens,  watch  over 
the  peaceful  valleys  of  Santo  Dalmerigo ;  of  the 
drowsy  noons  and  silver  moons  of  Italy;  let  us 
think,  loved  one,  of  the  rippling  Mediterranean 
and  of 

{Page  295 

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Coughs,  Bronchitis,  Colds  and  Ca 
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treatment.  A  boon  to  all  sufferers. 
Its  best  recommendation  is  its  fifty 
years  of  successful  use. 

For  sale  by  All  Druggists. 

[Page  296 

France  singing  like  a  thousand  violins  under  sum 
mer  skies." 

Lolo  did  not  answer. 

Massington  waited.     "Well?"  he  asked.    — * 

(To  be  continued  in  the  next  number.) 


WE  WE 

Being  a  pocket  manual  of  conversation  (English- 
French)  with  recognized  pronunciation,  and  con 
taining  just  and  only  such  words  and  phrases  as 
the  average  American  needs  and  uses  during  the 
day  in  Paris. 

MORNING 


Vocabulary 

Vocabulaire 

Pronunciation 

Coffee    (with 
milk)  and  rolls 

Du  cafe"  au  lait  et 
des  petits  pains 

Dew     Coffee     oh 
late  et  days  petty 
pains. 

The  check 

L'addition. 

Ladditziyawn. 

How  much? 

Combien? 

Come-bean? 

Overcharge  ! 

La  survente! 

La  servant! 

It's  a  shame  ! 

C'est  dommage! 

Kest  dumb-age  ! 

I  don't  pay  ! 

Je  ne  paye  pas  ! 

Jay  no  pay  pass! 

You  think  Amer 
icans    are   easy 
marks. 

Vous   croyez   que 
1  e  s      Americains 
sont    des    belles 
poires. 

Vuz    croyz    cue 
lays       Americans 
sont     days     bells 
pores. 

Where    is     the 
headwaiter? 

Ou  est  le  premier 
garcon? 

Oo  est  lay  primer 
garson? 

Extortion  ! 

L'extorsion  ! 

Lee  extortion! 

Audacity! 

L'audace 

Lowdace  ! 

What  impudence! 

Quel  effronterie! 

Kwel  effrontry! 

A  crime  ! 

Un  crime! 

Yune  cree-um! 

Robbers  ! 

Les  voleurs! 

Lays  velours  I 

Call  a  policeman  ! 

Appelez   un   gen 
darme  ! 

Apple-ease    yune 
cop! 

One  franc  !  ! 

Un  franc!! 

Yune  frank  !  ! 

8 

BOTTOM  UP 


Vocabulary 

Vocabukure 

Pronunciation 

A  shame  ! 

L'infamie  ! 

Linf  ame  ! 

Insolence  ! 

L'insolence  ! 

Linsolance  ! 

Damned     frog- 
eating    French 
men! 

Les    sacres    man- 
geurs     de     gren- 
ouilles  fran9ais! 

Lays     s  a  c  k  e  r  s 
mangers      dee 
grenoolies      fran- 
kays  ! 

NOON 

Vocabulary 

Vocabulaire 

Pronunciation 

The  bill  of  fare. 

La    carte     (du 
jour). 

La     card     (dee 
jury). 

Roast     beef    and 

Un     rosbif     a  u  x 

Yune  roastbif  oh 

potatoes. 

pommes  de  terre. 

poms  dee  tear. 

A  toothpick. 

Un  cure-dent. 

Yune  curedent. 

The  check. 

L'addition. 

Ladditziyawn. 

Great  Scott! 

Bon  Scott! 

Bonnie  Scot  I 

You     must     take 
Americans    for 

Vous   croyez   que 
1  e  s      Americains 

Vuz     croyz    cue 
lays       Americans 

boobs  ! 

sont  des  fous! 

sont  days  simps  ! 

A    dirty    shame  ! 

L'infamie  vilaine! 

Linf  ame      V  e  r  - 
laine  ! 

Where's       t  h  e 

Ou  est  le  maitre 

Oo  est  lav  mater 

manager? 

d'hdtel? 

dee  hotel? 

Two  francs  ! 

Deux  francs! 

Deuce   franks! 

What! 

Quoi! 

Quoit  ! 

Incredible  ! 

C'est  incroyable! 

Kest  incroybul  ! 

It's  awful! 

C'est  affreux! 

Kest  affrooz! 

You  can  go  chase 
yourself  ! 

Chasse-toi  ! 

Chase  toy! 

Why,     in     Chi 

Mais  a  Chicago  — 

May    in     Shi- 

cago— 

cawgo  — 

10 


BOTTOMS   UP 


AFTERNOON 

Vocabulary 

Vocabulaire 

Pronunciation 

So  this  is  the  Pre 

Eh,  bien!  Le  Pre 

E  bean  !  Lee  Free 

Catelan  ! 

Catelan  ! 

Cattleland  ! 

It's     not     up     to 
Elitch's     G  a  r- 

Ce    n'est    pas    si 
bon   que  les   jar- 

Key  nest  pass  so 
bon  cue  lays  jar- 

dens. 

dins  d'Elitch 

dins  dee  Elitch. 

Waiter,  a  Bronx. 

Garcon,  un  aperi 

G  a  r  s  o  n  ,     yune 

tif  Bronx. 

aperteef  Bronx. 

Gee,    that's     a 

Mon  DieuIQuelle 

Mon    doo  !    Kwel 

peach     of     a 

jolie   poulette    au 

jolly     pulay     aw 

chicken    in    the 

chapeau  vert! 

shapyou  vert  ! 

green  hat! 

Waiter,        my 

Gar?on,    1'  addi 

Garson,    my    lad- 

check. 

tion. 

difcziyawn. 

What!  Fifty  cen 

Quoi  !     Cinquante 

Quoit  !     Sinkant 

times  ? 

centimes  ? 

sentimes  ? 

Do  you  think  us 
Americans    are 

Croyez-vous    que 
nous     Am6ricains 

Croyz    v  u  z     cue 
news    Americans 

rubes  ? 

sont     des     fermi- 

sont     days      fer- 

ers? 

meers? 

Too  much  ! 

Trop! 

Tropp  ! 

I  can't  consent  to 

Je  ne  puis  y  con- 

Jay     nee     pewis 

it! 

sentir  ! 

why  consenter! 

An     awful    over 

Une  survente  ter 

Uni    servant   ter 

charge  ! 

rible  ! 

rible  ! 

Damned     French 

Les  Francais  sont 

Lays    Frankays 

swindlers  ! 

des  escrocs  damn- 

sont  days  escrocks 

ables  ! 

damnable  ! 

EVENING 

Vocabulary 

Vocabulaire 

Pronunciation 

Hey  there!  Taxi! 

He!    Arretez! 

Either  whistle  or 

Taxi  ! 

wave  arms. 

BOTTOMS   UP 


11 


Vocabulary 

Vocabulaire 

Pronunciation 

Caf6  de  la  Paix< 

Caf6  de  la  Paix! 

Caif  della  Pays! 

How  much,  driv 

Combien,     chauf 

Come-bean,  show- 

er? 

feur? 

fer? 

Thirty  centimes! 

Trente  centimes! 

Trenton  sentimes  ! 

Cursed  crook! 

Maudit  voleur  ! 

Maude  velour! 

It's    an    absolute 

C'est    une    ve>it- 

Kest     uni     verit 

imposition  ! 

able  exploitation! 

able  exploitation  ! 

Change  this  five- 

Changez     c  e  1  1  e 

Changey    settee 

franc  piece. 

piece     de     cinq 

piece     dee     sink 

francs. 

franks. 

Well,    anyway,    I 

(  Merely    thought, 

Counterfeit. 

got     the     right 

never  verbalized) 

change. 

Waiter,  bring  me 

Garcon,    apportez 

Garson,     apporty 

some  roast  beef 

moi  un  rosbif  aux 

moey  yune  roast- 

and  potatoes. 

pommes  de  terre. 

bif  oh   poms   dee 

tear. 

A  toothpick. 

Un   cure-dent. 

Yune  curedent. 

My  check! 

L'addition  ! 

My  ladditziyawn! 

Two  francs  ! 

Deux  francs  ! 

Deuce  franks! 

Hell! 

L'Enfer  ! 

Loafer  ! 

You    take    us 

Vous    croyez   que 

Vuz    croyz    cue 

Americans    for 

nous     Am6ricains 

news     Americans 

hayseeds. 

sont    des    graines 

sont    days   grains 

du  foin 

dew  fun. 

Two    francs  !    I'm 

Deux    francs  !    Je 

Deuce     franks  ! 

sore  ! 

m'enrage  ! 

Jay  mennyrage  ! 

Here     is     your 

Voici     votre     ar- 

Voce  vote  argent 

money    and  — 

g  e  n  t     et  —  bon 

et  —  bon  sore! 

good  night! 

soir  !  ! 

NIGHT 

Vocabulary 

Vocabulaire 

Pronunciation 

Maxim's  at  last  ! 

Enfin,  Maxim's! 

Whoop-ee  ! 

12 


BOTTOMS  UP 


Vocabulary 

Vocabulaire 

Pronunciation 

Ah  there,  kiddo! 

Eh,  beb6! 

E  baby! 

Sure,  I'll  buy  you 
wine. 

C  e  r  t  a  i  nement, 
j'a  c  h  e  t  erai  du 
champagne. 

C  e  r  t  a  i  n  m  ent, 
joshetarie  dew 
wine. 

I  love  you. 

Je  vous  aime. 

Jay  vus  Amy. 

Oh,     you're     kid 
ding. 

Vous  me  taqui- 
nez. 

V  u  z  me  tack- 
knees. 

More  wine?  Sure, 
dearie  ! 

Plus  de  cham 
pagne?  Certaine- 
ment,  ma  cherie  ! 

Plus  dee  wine  1 
Certainment,  my 
cherry  ! 

Vocabulary 
Stung! 

TWO  A.  M. 

Vocabulaire 
Une  piqure 

Pronunciation 
Uni  picker! 

BACK  HOME:  A  MONTH  LATER 


Honestly,  Mary, 
I  was  true  to 
you. 


Vraiment,   Marie, 
je  vous  fusfidele. 


Naturally. 


FOOTNOTE. 


Inasmuch  as  the  only  persons  in  all  Paris  who  do 
not  try  to  speak  English  are  the  Americans,  it  is 
advisable  for  the  Americans  in  Paris  to  try  speaking 
English  and  reserve  their  French  for  the  United 
States  where  the  only  persons  who  do  not  try  to 
speak  French  are  the  Frenchmen. 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  VERONAL 
RING 

A  Guaranteed  Box  office  Melodrama  in  One  Act, 
Containing  Just  and  Only  Such  Famous  Melo 
dramatic  Lines  as  Have  for  Countless  Years  Been 
Successful  in  Evoking  the  Plaudits  and  Hisses  of 
Melodrama  Audiences. 


CAST 

DICK  STRONG:  A  hero. 

MARY  DALLAS:  A  country  girl. 

ABNER  DALLAS:  Mary's  aged  father. 

JEM  DALTON:  A  villain. 

SCENE:  Sitting  room  of  Abner  Dallas'  home. 
PLACE:  A  small  country  town  in  New  York  State. 
TIME :      The  present  day. 

When  the  curtain  rises,  the  stage  is  in  complete 
darkness.  Mary  enters,  goes  to  centre  table  and 
turns  up  small  oil  lamp.  Immediately  the  "whole 
stage  is  lighted  with  a  dazzling  brilliance.  Mary 
catches  sight  of  Dalton  standing  in  doorway  L.U.E. 
A  sinister  smile  is  on  his  lips,  a  riding  crop  in  hit 
hand. 

MARY 

(shrinking  back) 

My  God — you!     What  do  you  want  here? 

DALTON 

(advancing  with  his  hat  on  and  switching  his 
boot  with  riding  crop) 
Ha,  my  pretty  one,  we  shall  see — we  shall  see. 

13 


14  BOTTOMS   UP 

MARY 
(in  tears) 

Oh,  how  can  you,  how  can  you?  Was  it  not 
enough  that  you  stole  my  youth,  that  you  made  me 
what  I  am? 

DALTON 

So,  my  proud  beauty,  your  spirit  is  broken  at  last ! 
And  at  last  I  have  you  within  my  power! 

MARY 

Oh,  God,  give  me  strength!  If  I  were  a  man,  I'd 
kill  you!  You  are  of  the  kind  who  drag  women 
to  the  gutter. 

DALTON 

Now,  now,  my  fine  young  animal !  Remember — 
'twas  you,  too,  who  sinned ! 

MARY 

(sobbing  wildly) 

Folly,  yes — but  not  sin,  no,  no — not  sin,  not  sin! 
It  is  the  weakness  of  women  and  the  perfidy  of 
men  that  makes  women  sin. 

DALTON 

(sneering) 

Sin  it  was — sinf  I  repeat  it.  You — you're  no  bet 
ter  now  than  the  women  of  the  streets ! 

MARY 

No,  no !  Don't  say  that,  don't  say  that !  Have 
pity! 

(throwing  herself  before  him) 

See !  It  is  a  helpless  woman  who  kneels  at  your 
feet— 


BOTTOMS   UP  15 

DALTON 

(throwing  her  from  him) 
Bah! 

MARY 

(pleading  ) 

Who  asks  you  to  give  back  what  is  more  precious 
to  her  than  jewels  and  riches,  than  life  itself — her 
honor ! 

DALTON 

Enough  of  that !  Now,  you,  listen  to  me !  Do  as 
I  say  and  I  can  make  a  lady  of  you — you  shall  be 
dressed  like  a  queen  and  move  in  society,  loved, 
honored  and  famous.  This  I  offer  you  if — if  you 
will  become  my  wife. 

MARY 

Your  wife !  Not  if  all  the  gold  of  the  world  were 
in  your  hands,  and  you  gave  it  to  me.  Your  wife 
— never — never — not  even  to  become  a  lady  !  Be 
fore  I'd  be  your  wife  I'd  live  in  rags  and  be  proud 
of  my  poverty !  There  is  the  door — go! 

DALTON 

Not  so  fast,  my  girl ! 

MARY 

I'll  do  what  thousands  of  other  heartbroken  and 
despairing  women  have  done — seek  for  peace  in 
the  silence  of  the  grave ! 

DALTON 

(sneeringly  ) 
Well,  what  will  you  do? 

MARY 

Stand  back!  Let  me  pass.  If  you  lay  your  hand 
on  me,  I'll — 


16  BOTTOMS   UP 

DALTON 
Ha! 

(He  advances  upon  her  and  makes  to  seize  her  in 
his  arms.  She  struggles,  screams.  Enter  DicJc,  re 
volver  drawn) 

DICK 

What's  the  meaning  of  this?     Speak! 

DALTON 

(to  Mary,  airily) 
Who  is  this  young — this  young  cub? 

(aside) 
Damnation ! 

DICK 

(advancing) 
I'll  show  you  soon  enough,  you  fighter  of  women! 

DALTON 

(in  a  superior  tone,  loftily   ignoring   the  in 
sult) 

Hm,  you  Americans  are  a  peculiar  lot.  But  I  sup 
pose  your  manners  will  improve  as  your  country 
grows  older. 

DICK 

Oh,  I  see!  So  you're  an  Englishman,  aren't  you? 
Englishmen  never  believe  how  fast  we  grow  in  this 
country.  They  won't  believe  that  George  Wash 
ington  ever  made  them  get  out  of  it,  either,  but  he 
did! 

DALTON 

Ah,  my  dear  fellow,  our  country  has  grown  up  of 
its  own  accord,  but  you  have  to  get  immigrants  to 
help  you  build  up  your  country — and  what  are 
they? 


BOTTOMS   UP  17 

DICK 

That's  so :  they  don't  amount  to  anything  until  they 
come  over  here  and  inhale  the  free  and  fresh  air 
of  liberty.  Then  they  become  American  citizens 
and  they  amount  to  a  great  deal.  We  build  up  the 
West  and  feed  the  world ! 

DALTON 

Feed  the  world !  Oh,  no !  Certainly  you  don't  feed 
England ! 

DICK 

Oh  yes  we  do!  We've  fed  England.  We  gave  you 
a  warm  breakfast  in  1776,  a  boiling  dinner  in 
1812 — and  we've  got  a  red-hot  supper  for  you  any 
time  you  want  it ! 

DALTON 

(insolently  ) 
'Pon  my  word,  you  amuse  me. 

DICK 

(sarcastically) 
You  don't  say  so ! 

DALTON 

And  if  it  wasn't  for  this 

(he  smiles  sneeringly  ) 
lady— 

DICK 

(stepping  quickly  to  Dalton,  raising  his  hand 
as  if  to  strike  him) 
By  God,  if  you  were  not  so  old,  I'd 

MARY 

(wildly) 
Dick !  Dick ! 


18  BOTTOMS   UP 

DICK 

(to  Dalton,  face  to  face,  pointing  to  door) 
Now,  then,  you  worthless  skunk — you  get  straight 
the  hell  out  of  here ! 

(Dalton  looks  first  at  Dick,  then  at  Mary. 

Then,     with     a     cynical     laugh,     shrugs     his 

shoulders  and  exits) 

MARY 

(throwing  herself  in  Dick's  arms  and  burying 
her  head  on  his  breast) 
Dick 

DICK 

(stroking  her  hair  fondly) 

Have  courage,  sweetheart ;  do  not  cry.  Everything 
will  turn  out  for  the  best  in  the  end. 

MARY 

You  have  the  courage  for  both  of  us.  Every  blow 
that  has  fallen,  every  door  that  has  been  shut  be 
tween  me  and  an  honest  livelihood,  every  time  that 
clean  hands  have  been  drawn  away  from  mine  and 
respectable  faces  turned  aside  as  I  came  near  them, 
I've  come  to  you  for  comfort  and  love  and  hope — 
and  have  found  them. 

DICK 

My  brave  little  woman!  My  brave  little  woman! 
How  you've  suffered  in  silence !  But  brighter  days 
are  before  us. 

MARY 

(pensively) 

Brighter  days.  I  try  to  see  them  through  the 
clouds  that  stand  like  a  dark  wall  between  us. 

DICK 

You  must  not  heed  such  black  thoughts,  my  angel. 


BOTTOMS   UP  19 

MARY 

(sadly) 

I'll  do  my  best  to  fight  them  off — for  your  sake, 
our  sake. 

DICK 

There's  a  brave  dear !   And  now,  good-bye,  dearest, 
until  to-morrow.     Remember,  when  the  clouds  are 
thickest,  the  sun  still  shines  behind  them. 
(exits) 

MARY 

(alone) 
Oh,  my  Dick,  my  all,  may  God  protect  you! 

(A  pause.    Then  enter  Abner,  carrying  a  gun) 

MARY 

(in  alarm) 

Father!  What  are  you  doing?  Where  are  you 
going? 

ABNER 

I've  heerd  all !  I'm  agoin'  t'  find  the  varmint  who 
wronged  ye,  and  when  I  find  him,  I'm  a-goin'  t' 
kill  him,  kill  him — that's  all! 

MARY 

Stop,  dad  !   You  know  not  what  you  do ! 

ABNER 

(with  a  sneer) 

You!  A  fine  daughter!  A  fine  one  to  speak  t'  her 
old  father  who  watched  over  her  sence  her  poor 
mother  died,  who  slaved  for  her  with  these  two 
hands,  who 

MARY 

(interrupting) 
Oh,    father,    that   is    cruel!     Nothing   that   others 


20  BOTTOMS   UP 

could  do  would  hurt  me  like  those  words  from  you. 
I  have  suffered,  father;  I  would  rather  starve 
than 

ABNER 

(brusquely) 
A  fine  time  now  fer  repentance ! 

MARY 

(in  tears) 
Mercy!    Mercy!    Have  mercy! 

ABNER 

Mercy,  eh?  Well,  I  kalkerlate  such  as  you'll  get 
no  mercy  from  me ! 

MARY 

(wildly) 

I  was  young  and  innocent;  I  knew  nothing  of  the 
world. 

ABNER 
Go!    And  never  darken  these  doors  again! 

(he  throws  open  the  door;  the  storm  howls) 
Go !     Fer  you  will  live  under  my  roof  no  longer ! 
Thus  I  blot  out  my  daughter  from  my  life  forever, 
like  a  crushed  wild  flower. 

MARY 

Oh,    father,   father!      You   don't,   you   won't,   you 
can't  be  so  cruel! 
(exits) 

ABNER 

(slams  door;  stands  a  moment  at  knob;  then 
goes  slowly  to  table  and  picks  up  Mary's 
photograph.  He  looks  at  it;  his  eyes  fill  with 
tears) 


BOTTOMS   UP  21 

I'll  set  by  that  winder,  and  set  and  set,  but  she, 
my  little  one,  '11  never  come  back,  never  come  back. 
Oh,  my  little  girl,  my  little  girl !  I'll  put  this  here 
lamp  in  the  winder  to  guide  my  darlin'  back  home 
t'  me. 

(he  totters  toward  the  window) 

CURTAIN 


22  BOTTOMS   UP 

WHO'S  WHO  IN   AMERICA 

X.IPINSKI,  Abraham,  editor;  b.  Mogilef,  Russia, 
August  16,  1869;  s.  Isidor  and  Rachel  (Hipski); 
m.  Sarah  Gondorfsky,  of  Syschevka,  Russia,  1889, 
Leah  Ranalowski.  of  New  York,  1897.  Minna 
Rosensweig,  of  New  York,  1906.  Editor,  the 
Socialist  Quarterly,  the  Russian-Jewish  Gazette. 
Author:  "Freedom  for  the  Poles,"  "The  Case 
for  the  Russian  Peasants,"  'The  Dangers  of 
Democracy"  and  sixteen  children.  Address:  New 
York,  New  York, 

O'CALLAHAN,  Patrick  Michael,  public  official; 
b.  Dublin,  Ireland,  December  6,  1873;  s.  Seumas 
and  Bridget  (O'Shea);  \n.  Mary  Shaughnessy,  of 
Glennamaddy,  Ireland,  February  12,  1890;  came 
to  New  York,  1891,  and  was  on  police  force 
1891-8,  leader  -i2th  Assembly  District,  New  York, 
1393;  13th  Assembly  District  1894;  14th  Assembly 
District  1895;  commissioner  of  docks  and  ferries, 
New  York,  and  treasurer  of  the  board,  1896; 

Tammany  Hall  leader  1395 Address:    New 

York,  New  York. 

25BEZETTI,  Pietro,  charity  organizer;  b.  Milan, 
Italy,  October  10,  1873;  s.  Garibaldi  and  Maria 
(Arezzo);  m.  Rocca  Frignano,  of  Giovinnazo, 
Italy,  1397;  came  to  New  York  1892  and  began 
as  bootblack;  leader  6th  District  Republican  Rally 
Club  1899-1904;  organized  Italian  Charities  League, 
1906;  president  and  treasurer  Italian  Charities 
League,  1906 — ,  Italo-American  Chowder  Club, 
1907 — ,  Italian  Immigrant  •  Relief  Society,  1908—, 
Italian  Workmen  of  the  World,  1908 — .  Address: 
New  York,  New  York. 

CHILUNGS,  Algernon  Ronald,  playwright;  b. 
Manchester,  England.  December  9,  1871;  s. 
Hubert  and  Gladys  (Windcourt);  was  actor  in 
London,  1889-1903;  came  to  America  1904;  has 
written  four  American  plays,  "Lord  Dethridge's 
Claim,"  "The  Savoy  at  Ten,"  "The  Queen's  Con 
sort,"  and  "Lady  Cicely's  Adventure."  Has 
lectured  on  the  American  drama  at  Yale  and 
Harvard  Universities.  Vice-president  Society  of 
American  Dramatists.  Address,  New  York,  New 
York. 

QBEHHAL2,  Gustav,  ex-congressman;  fc.  Diissel- 
dorf,  Germany,  May  20,  1868;  s.  Ludwig  and 
Hannah  (Draushauser) ;  m.  Kunigunde  Kartoffel- 
baum,  of  Teklenburg,  Germany,  1884,  Theresa 
Waxel,  of  Neuholdensleben,  Germany,  1889;  came 
to  America  in  steerage  1886;  joined  the  Deutsche 
Gesellschaftsverein  1886  and  became  its  president 
in  1896;  merged  this  organization  in  1897  with 
the  Vaderland  Bund;  presented  his  native  city 
with  a  library  in  1898.  Author:  "Deutschland 
und  Der  Kaiser."  Address,  Brooklyn,  New  York, 


"A   LITTLE   CHILD    SHALL 
LEAD  THEM" 

By 


The  snow  swirled  against  the  window  in  great 
gusts.  Agatha  Brewster  sat  looking  into  the  flam 
ing  grate. 

"What's  the  matter,  mamma  dear?"  asked 
Betty,  her  little  daughter.  "You  look  so  sad — 
and  this  is  Christmas  eve." 

Agatha  did  not  answer.  She  could  not  trust  her 
voice.  There  was  a  mist  before  her  eyes.  She 
sat  there  thinking,  thinking,  thinking.  It  was  just 
a  year  ago  tonight  that  Dave,  her  husband,  had 
parted  from  her  in  anger.  Since  then  no  word,  no 
letter — nothing  but  endless  conferences  with  that 
hideous  lawyer,  the  unbearable  condolences  of 
well-meaning  friends,  the  dull  heart-ache,  the 
thought  of  little  Betty.  .  .  .- 


24    "A  LITTLE  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM" 


:A  LITTLE  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM"  "25 


26   "A  LITTLE  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM 


Betty  crept  noiselessly  down  the  stairs. 

"Papa !  Oh,  papa !  My  papa !"  she  cried. 
"You've  come  home  again.  Won't  Santa  Claus  be 
glad !" 

Brewster,  his  eyes  suddenly  blinded  with  tears, 
grabbed  the  sweet  child  to  his  breast  and  hugged 
her,  oh,  so  close !     And  then,  bending  down,  he 
kissed  the  brave  little  woman  at  his  side. 
The  End. 

If  you  want  to  read  the  parts  of  this  story  that 
have  been  left  out  to  save  ink,  you  will  find  the 
whole  thing  in  any  issue  of  any  15  cent  magazine. 
I  say  any  issue,  but  if  you  want  to  make  doubly 
sure,  get  any  Christmas  issue. 


THE  LETTERS 

AN      ALPHABETICAL      PROBLEM      PLAY 

AFTER    THE    MANNER    OF    PINERO, 

HENRY    ARTHUR    JONES,    AND 

OTHER    DRAMATISTS    OF 

A  BYGONE  DAY. 

FOREWORD:  A  season  or  so  ago,  Mr.  Cyril 
Maude  and  Miss  Laurette  Taylor  attracted 
considerable  attention  in  a  one-word  play — 
a  play  in  one  act,  each  line  of  whose  dia 
logue  consisted  of  a  single  word.  In  order 
to  meet  the  insistent  public  demand  for  con 
stantly  increased  novelty,  I  submit  herewith 
what  is  probably  the  dernier  cri  in  dramatic 
literature — a  play  in  one  letter. 

CHARACTERS 

ZACHERY  EBBSMITH:     The    usual    problem 

play  husband. 

FELICIA  EBBSMITH:  The  usual  problem 

play  wife. 

ROBERT  CHARTERIS:  The  usual  problem 

play  lover. 

JENKINS:  The     usual     problem 

play  butler. 

SCENE:  The  drawing-rooom  of  Ebbsmith's  house.  Any 
old  set  will  do,  provided  only  there  is  a  por 
tiere-hung  entrance  at  R.  2,  in  which  the  hus 
band  may  make  his  unexpected  appearance. 

TIME:     An  evening  in  May. 

PLACE:  New  York. 

When  the  curtain  rises,  Mrs.  Ebbsmith  (a  brunette 
with  an  uncanny  likeness  to  Mrs.  Patrick  Camp 
bell),  is  discovered  in  Charteris'  arms. 

27 


28  BOTTOMS   UP 

MRS.  E. 

(in  passionate  ecstasy) 
O! 

CHARTERIS 
(ditto) 
O! 

(Zachery  Ebbsmith  duly  appears  in  doorway 
at  R.  2.  The  lovers  cannot  see  him  as  their 
backs  are  turned) 

MRS.  E. 

(still  in  passionate  ecstasy ) 
O! 

CHARTERIS 
(ditto) 
O! 

(Mrs.  Ebbsmith  frees  herself  reluctantly  from 
Charteris'  embrace.  She  turns  and  catches 
sight  of  Ebbsmith) 

MRS.  E. 

(cowering  before  her  husband's  steady  gaze) 
U! 

EBBSMITH 
(quietly) 
I. 

CHARTERIS 
(under  his  breath) 
G! 

MRS.  E. 

(sinking  to  her  knees  before  Ebbsmithf  seising 
his  hands  in  supplication^  and  looking  at  him 
appealingly) 
"Z" ! 

EBBSMITH 

(angrily  withdrawing  his  hand) 
U 


BOTTOMS   UP  29 

MRS.  E. 

(in  tears,  interrupting) 
R? 

EBBSMITH 
(violently;  between  his  teeth) 

A 

MRS.  E. 

(in  tears,  again  cutting  in) 
A? 

EBBSMITH 
(with  a  iaugh  ) 
J! 

CHARTERIS 
(in  great  surprise) 
J? 

EBBSMITH 

(repeating,  nodding  his  head) 
J!! 

CHARTERIS 
(in  wonder) 
Y? 

MRS.  E. 
(ditto) 
Y? 

EBBSMITH 

(with  a  grim  smile,  displaying  a  bundle  of  let 
ters) 
C! 

(Mrs.  E.  and  Charteris  look  at  each  other  in 
alarm,  realising  now  what  Ebbsmith's  ironic 
twitting  means) 

MRS.  E. 
O! 

CHARTERIS 
H ! 


30  BOTTOMS   UP 

EBBSMITH 

(waving  the  letters  tauntingly  under  his  wife's 
eyes) 
C! 

(Mrs.  E.  endeavours  to  speak.  She  tries  to 
summon  courage  to  ask  Ebbsmith  how  and 
where  he  got  the  carelessly-guarded,  incrim 
inating  letters,  but  her  lips  are  muffled  through 
fear.  Ebbsmith  waits  patiently,  sneeringly. 
Then,  seeing  his  wife's  hopeless  struggle  to 
phrase  the  question ) 

EBBSMITH 

(quietly  taking  a  five  dollar  bill  from  his  wal 
let,  and  holding  it  aloft,  with  a  significant 
smile) 

A . 

CHARTERIS 
(puzzled) 

A? 

EBBSMITH 
(nodding  toward  entrance  at  R.  2) 

V. 

MRS.  E. 
(beginning  to  comprehend) 

O! 

(she  rushes  to  bell.  She  presses  it  in  order  to 
summon  the  bribed  Jenkins  and  lodge  her  ac 
cusations  against  him  for  his  deceit.  There  is 
a  pause.  Enter  Jenkins.  Mrs.  Ebbsmith  makes 
to  speak.  Ebbsmith  interrupts  her.) 

EBBSMITH 
(to  Jenkins,  quietly  ) 

T. 

(Jenkins  nods  and  exits.  There  is  another 
pause.  Charteris  attempts  to  conceal  his  ner- 


BOTTOMS   UP  81 

vousness  by  puffing  nonchalantly  at  a  cigar 
ette.  Jenkins  enters  with  the  tea.  Ebbsmith 
motions  his  wife  and  Charteris  to  take  their 
seats  at  the  small  table.  Puzzled,  they  obey. 
Jenkins  pours  and  exits.) 

EBBSMITH 

(taking  from  his  pocket  two  railroad  tickets  , 
one  of  which  he  hands  Charteris) 
U. 

CHARTERIS 
(perplexed) 
I? 

EBBSMITH 
(nodding   firmly) 
U! 

(Ebbsmith  now  hands  the  other  ticket  to  his 
wife) 

EBBSMITH 

(as   he  gives   it   into   her  puzzled   hands;   in 
same  tone  as  before) 
U! 

MRS.  E. 

(in  a  tone  of  nervous  bewilderment) 
I? 

EBBSMITH 
(nodding  firmly) 
U! 

(Mrs.  E.  and  Charteris  look  at  each  other. 
Their  expressions  suggest  anything  but  a  feel 
ing  of  personal  comfort.  They  look  at  each 
other's  tickets) 

MRS.  E. 
(reading  name  of  road  on  top  of  ticket) 


(her  eyes,  still  dimmed  by  tears,  prevent  her 


32  BOTTOMS   UP 

from  seeing  the  rest.     She  starts  to  mumble 

the  "and"  which  follows  the  "B") 
«<  » 

(but  gets  no  further,  and  breaks  down  cry 
ing) 

CHARTERIS 
(finishing  the  name  of  the  road) 

"O." 

(Charteris  and  Ebbsmith  look   at  each  other 
fixedly  across  the  tea-table) 

CHARTERIS 

(deliberately) 

U . 

(Ebbsmith  lifts  his  eyebrows) 

CHARTERIS 

(hotly) 


B 


(Ebbsmith  lifts  his  eyebrows) 

CHARTERIS 

(choking    back    the    ffdamned/'    and    flinging 
down  his  hand  in  disgust  at  the  whole  busi 
ness) 
'L! 

EBBSMITH 

(rising,  going  to  door  and  holding  aside  the 

portieres,    significantly) 
P! 

MRS.  E. 

(sobbing    out    her    reawakened    old    love    for 

Zachery  ) 
"Z" ! 

EBBSMITH 

(insisting;  in  even  tone) 
D! 


BOTTOMS   UP  88 

MRS.  E. 
(sobbing  wildly) 
"Z" ! ! 

EBBSMITH 

(with  absolute  finality) 

Ql! 

(Charteris  throws  a  wrap  around  Mrs.  Ebb- 
smith's  shoulders  and  starts  to  lead  her  from 
the  room.  At  the  doorway ,  with  a  cry  of 
anguish,  Mrs.  Ebbsmith  breaks  from  Charteris' 
arm  and  throws  herself  into  the  arms  of  her 
husband.  A  smile  spreads  over  the  latter's 
features  as  he  realizes  the  complete  effective 
ness  of  the  cure  he  has  practised  upon  his 
wife,  of  the  stratagem  by  which  he  has  won 
her  away  from  Charteris  forever,  of  the  trick 
ery  by  which  he  has  shown  Charteris  up  to 
her  for  the  insincere  philanderer  he  is,  of  the 
device  of  pretending  to  concur  in  her  and 
Charteris'  plan  to  elope.  He  clasps  her  close 
to  him  and  presses  a  kiss  on  her  brow.  Char 
teris  takes  up  his  hat,  gloves,  and  stick  from 
the  piano,  and  tip-toes  from  the  room  as  there 
falls  the 

CURTAIN 


PROMENADES  WITH 
PANTALOON 


Broadway  playwright — one  who  possesses  the 
ability  to  compress  the  most  interesting  episodes  in 
several  characters'  lifetimes  into  two  uninteresting 
hours. 

II 

The  art  of  emotional  acting,  on  Broadway,  con 
sists  in  expressing  (1)  doubt  or  puzzlement,  by 
scratching  the  head;  (2)  surprise,  by  taking  a  sud 
den  step  backwards;  (3)  grief,  by  turning  the 
back  to  audience  and  bowing  head;  (4)  determina 
tion  (if  standing),  by  thrusting  handkerchief  back 
into  breast  pocket,  brushing  hair  back  from  fore 
head  with  a  quick  sweep  of  hand  and  buttoning 
lower  button  of  sack  coat;  (5)  determination  (if 
seated),  by  looking  fixedly  at  audience  for  a  mo 
ment  and  then  suddenly  standing  up;  (6)  despair, 
by  rumpling  hair,  sinking  upon  sofa,  reaching  over 
to  table,  pouring  out  stiff  drink  of  whiskey  and 
swallowing  it  at  one  gulp;  (7)  impatience,  by 
walking  quickly  up  stage,  then  down,  taking  cigar 
ette  from  case,  lighting  it  and  throwing  it  immedi 
ately  into  grate,  walking  back  up  stage  again  and 
then  down;  (8)  relief,  by  taking  deep  breath,  ex 
haling  quickly  and  mopping  off  face  with  hand 
kerchief;  and  (9)  fear,  by  having  smeared  face 
with  talcum  powder ! 

Ill 

The  leading  elements  in  the  Broadway  humour, 
in  the  order  of  their  popularity:  (1)  speculation 

34 


BOTTOMS   UP  35 

as  to  how  the  Venus  de  Milo  lost  her  arms,  and 
(2)  what  she  was  doing  with  them  when  she  lost 
them. 

IV 

Broadway  actors  may  in  the  main  be  divided  into 
two  groups;  those  who  pronounce  it  burgular  and 
those  whom  one  cannot  hear  anyway  back  of  the 
second  row. 


The  Syllogism  of  the  Broadway  Drama 

1.  Someone  loves  someone. 

2.  Someone  interposes. 

3.  Someone  is  outwitted,  someone  marries  some 
one,  and  someone  gets  two  dollars. 

VI 

Such  critics  as  contend  that  literature  is  one 
thing  and  drama  another,  are  apparently  of  the 
notion  that  literature  is  something  that  consists 
mainly  of  long  words  and  allusions  to  Chateau 
briand,  and  drama  something  that  consists  mainly 
of  monosyllables  and  allusions  to  William  J.  Burns. 

VII 

The  test  supreme  of  all  acting  is  the  coincidental 
presence  upon  the  stage  of  a  less  competent  actress 
who  is  twice  as  good-looking. 

VIII 

A  Thumb-nail  Critique — The  plays  which,  in  the 
last  two  decades,  have  in  the  United  States  made 
the  most  money:  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  "Way 
Down  East,"  "The  Old  Homestead,"  "Ben  Hur," 
and  "Peg  o'  My  Heart."  The  plays  which,  in  the 
last  two  decades,  have,  in  the  United  States,  made 
the  least  money:  "The  Thunderbolt,"  "Strife," 


36  BOTTOMS   UP 

"The  Three  Daughters  of  M.  Dupont/'  "The  In 
cubus/'  and  "General  John  Regan." 

IX. 

The  unities  of  the  Belasco  drama:  Time,  place 
and  (legal)  action. 

X 

Constructive  critic :  One  who  builds  up  the  news 
paper's  theatrical  advertising  revenue. 

XI 

The  producers  of  our  two-dollar  music  shows  are 
rapidly  gobbling  up  all  the  vaudeville  actors.  This 
will  immeasurably  help  vaudeville. 

XII 

The  circuses  will  soon  go  into  winter  quarters. 
They  cannot  compete  with  the  Drama  Leagues. 

XIII 

The  world  may  be  divided  thus:  actors  and 
dramatic  critics.  The  only  difference  between 
them  is  that  the  former  do  their  acting  on  a  plat 
form. 

XIV 

Shakespeare's  plays  fall  into  two  distinct  groups : 
Those  written  by  Shakespeare  and  those  acted  by 
Beerbohm  Tree. 

XV 

Dramatic  criticism:  The  theory  that  one  is  more 
interested  in  the  devices  with  which  a  woman  makes 
herself  beautiful — cold  creams,  mascaro,  false  hair, 
eyebrow  pencils,  lip  rouge,  face  powder,  dental 
floss,  whale-bone,  curl  papers,  et  cetera — than  in 
the  beautiful  woman  herself. 


BOTTOMS   UP  37 

XVI 

Something  seemingly  never  remembered  by  dra 
matists  when  writing  love  scenes:  the  more  a 
young  woman  really  loves  a  man  the  less  talka 
tive,  the  more  silent,  she  is  in  his  presence.  .  .  . 
Only  women  over  thirty  are  chatty  before  the 
object  of  their  affection. 

XVII 

The  proficient  actor  is  one  who  can  completely 
immerse  his  own  personality  in  the  role  he  is  play 
ing.  The  star  actor  is  one  who  can  completely 
immerse  the  role  he  is  playing  in  his  own  per 
sonality. 

XVIII 

Although  it  may  have  absolutely  nothing  to  do 
with  the  case,  I  yet  believe  that,  in  a  romantic 
stage  role,  no  actress  can  possibly  be  convincing 
or  persuasive  if  she  is  able  in  private  life  to  eat 
tripe,  chicken  livers,  calves'  brains  or  a  thick  steak. 

XIX 

Maurice  Donnay,  the  talented  gentleman  of  Gal 
lic  dramatic  letters,  observes,  "The  French  drama 
tists  treat  of  love  because  it  is  the  only  subject 
which  every  member  of  the  audience  understands, 
and  a  dramatist  must,  of  course,  appeal  to  the 
masses."  Which,  in  another  way,  may  account  for 
the  great  appeal  and  success  in  America  of  crook 
plays. 

XX 

When  a  critic  refers  to  a  male  actor's  "author 
ity,"  the  betting  odds  are  generally  thirty  to  one 
that  what  he  has  done  is  to  mistake  for  that  quality 
the  aforesaid  actor's  embonpoint. 


38  BOTTOMS   UP 

XXI 

Mr.  George  P.  Goodale,  a  good  citizen  and  an 
honest  taxpayer,  was  lately  accorded  a  great  ban 
quet  in  honor  of  his  fifty  years  of  continuous  ser 
vice  as  dramatic  critic  to  the  Detroit  Free  Press. 
At  the  banquet,  it  was  said,  repeated,  and  empha 
sized  that,  in  all  his  half-century  as  a  critic  of  the 
drama,  Mr.  Goodale  had  never  made  a  single 
enemy.  Where,  than  in  this  banquet  and  its  im 
port,  a  smarter  satire  on  the  American  notion  of 
what  constitutes  dramatic  criticism? 

XXII 

The  hero  of  a  Broadway  play  may  not  be  bald. 
This  would  seem,  in  the  Broadway  drama,  to  be 
the  first  rule  of  heroism  and,  with  heroism,  of  in 
telligence  and  appeal.  So,  Julius  Caesar,  Bis 
marck,  George  Washington,  Napoleon  and  Shakes 
peare  would  be  low  villains. 

XXIII 

It  is  a  favourite  challenge  of  the  average  Broad 
way  playwright  to  the  dramatic  critic  that  if  the 
latter  knows  so  much  about  plays,  why  doesn't  he 
write  one  himself.  The  same  question  might  be 
asked  of  the  average  Broadway  playwright. 

XXIV 

The  financial  success  of  the  Broadway  play  is 
conditioned  on  the  proportion  of  theatergoers  who 
believe  that  singeing  keeps  the  hair  from  falling 
out  and  that  the  American  Indians  were  accus 
tomed  to  use  the  word  "heap"  before  every  ad 
jective.  The  last  season  was  the  most  successful 
Broadway  has  known  in  years. 


BOTTOMS   UP  39 

XXV 

It  took  Moliere  and  Sheridan,  as  it  now  takes 
Shaw  and  Bahr,  years  to  fashion  their  comedies. 
And  yet,  when  all  is  said  and  done,  what  is  fun 
nier,  what  provokes  a  louder  laughter,  than  the 
mere  articulation  of  the  name  Gustav? 

XXVI 

Literature  is  an  art  wherein  one  observes  the 
effects  of  the  thematic  action  upon  the  protagon 
ist's  mind.  Drama  is  an  art  wherein  one  observes 
the  effects  of  the  thematic  action  upon  the  protag 
onist's  heart.  Burlesque  is  an  art  wherein  one 
observes  the  effects  of  the  thematic  action  upon 
the  protagonist's  trousers-seat. 

XXVII 

"Trying  it  on  the  dog" — a  phrase  referring  to 
the  trying  out  of  a  play  in  the  provinces  before 
bringing  it  into  the  metropolis.  In  other  words, 
testing  the  effect  of  the  play  upon  an  intelligent 
community  to  predetermine,  by  its  lack  of  success 
there,  its  subsequent  prosperity  in  New  York. 

XXVIII 

The  so-called  "laughs"  in  an  American  musical 
show  must,  if  they  would  "get  over,"  be  devised 
in  such  a  manner  and  constructed  of  such  basic  ma 
terials  that  they  shall  be  within  the  scope  of  the 
intelligence  of  persons  who  can  neither  read  nor 
write.  This  is  why  nine-tenths  of  the  persons  in 
a  Broadway  audience  fall  out  of  their  chairs  with 
mirth  when  anybody  on  the  stage  refers  to  whisk 
ers  as  alfalfa  or  when  a  character  is  named  the 
Due  de  Gorgonzola. 

XXIX 

Royalties. — The  percentage  of  the  gross  receipts 


40  BOTTOMS   UP 

which  playwrights  get  from  producers,  after  law 
suits. 

XXX 

The  critic  who  believes  that  such  a  thing  as  a 
repertory  company  is  artistically  possible  believes 
that  a  dozen  modern  actors,  assembled  into  one 
group,  are  sufficiently  talented  and  skilled  to  in 
terpret  satisfactorily  a  dozen  plays.  The  critic 
who  does  not  believe  that  such  a  thing  as  a  reper 
tory  company  is  artistically  possible  knows  that  a 
dozen  modern  actors,  assembled  into  one  group, 
are  insufficiently  talented  and  skilled  to  interpret 
satisfactorily  even  one  play. 

XXXI 

It  is  the  custom  in  many  New  York  theaters  to 
ring  a  bell  in  the  lobby  so  as  to  warn  the  persons 
congregated  there  that  the  curtain  is  about  to  go 
up  on  the  next  act  and  that  it  is  time  for  them  to 
go  back  into  the  theater.  But  it  still  remains  for 
an  enterprising  impresario  to  make  a  fortune  by 
ringing  a  bell  in  the  theater  so  as  to  warn  the  per 
sons  congregated  there  that  the  curtain  is  about 
to  go  up  on  the  next  act  and  that  it  is  time  for 
them  to  go  back  into  the  lobby ! 

XXXII 

Farces  fall  into  two  classes:  Those  in  which  the 
leading  male  character  implores  "Let  me  explain !" 
and  the  leading  female  character  tartly  replies, 
"That's  the  best  thing  you  do,"  and  those  in  which 
the  leading  male  character's  evening  dress  socks 
have  white  clocks  on  them. 

XXXIII 
Mr.   Florenz  Ziegfeld  succeeds  with  his  shows 


BOTTOMS   UP  41 

because  he  addresses  his  chief  appeal  to  the  eye. 
Mr.  George  M.  Cohan  succeeds  with  his  because  he 
addresses  his  chief  appeal  to  the  ear.  The  im 
presarios  of  the  Fourteenth  Street  burlesque  shows 
succeed  with  theirs  because  they  address  their  chief 
appeal  to  the  nose. 

XXXIV 

The  one  big  ambition  of  nine  out  of  every  ten 
American  playwrights  is,  in  the  argot  of  the  the 
ater,  to  "get  over  the  footlights."  The  one  big 
ambition  of  nine  out  of  every  ten  audiences  is  ex 
actly  the  same! 

XXXV 

Most  so-called  optimistic  comedies  are  based  on 
the  theory  that  a  cup  of  coffee  improves  in  pro 
portion  to  the  number  of  lumps  of  sugar  one  puts 
into  it. 

XXXVI 

Opening  Night. — The  night  before  the  play  is 
ready  to  open. 

XXXVII 

The  chief  dramatic  situation  in  "The  Road  to 
Happiness"  consists  of  a  hero  who,  with  hand  on 
hip  pocket,  defies  the  assembled  villains  to  advance 
as  much  as  an  inch  at  peril  of  their  lives  and  who, 
having  thus  held  them  at  bay,  proceeds  to  pull 
out  a  handkerchief,  flick  his  nostril  and  make  his 
getaway.  The  chief  comic  situation  in  "Arizona," 
produced  many  years  ago,  consisted  of  the  same 
thing,  save  that  a  whiskey  flask  or  plug  of  tobacco 
— I  forget  which — was  used  in  place  of  a  nose- 
doily.  Thus,  little  boys  and  girls,  has  our  serious 
drama  advanced. 


42  BOTTOMS   UP 

XXXVIII 

Derivations 

First-Nighter.  —  From  Fiirst  (German  for 
"prince")  and  the  English  word  nitre  (KNOs:  a 
chemical  used  in  the  manufacture  of  gunpowder)  ; 
hence,  a  prince  of  gunpowder,  or,  in  simpler  terms, 
someone  who  makes  a  lot  of  noise. 

Manager. — From  the  Anglo-Saxon  word  "man 
ger,"  the  "a"  having  been  deleted  in  order  that 
the  word  might  be  shortened,  and  so  used  more 
aptly  for  purposes  of  swearing.  Manager  thus 
comes  from  "manger,"  something  which  provides 
fodder  for  the  jackasses  in  the  stalls. 

XXXIX 

Practically  speaking,  it  is  reasonable  to  believe 
that  the  public  doesn't  want  gloom  in  the  theater 
not  because  it  is  gloom,  not  because  of  the  gloom 
itself,  but  for  the  very  good  reason  that  gloom 
isn't  generally  interesting.  Let  a  playwright  make 
gloom  as  interesting  as  happiness  and  the  public 
will  want  it  theatrically.  But  the  gloom  of  the 
drama  is,  more  often  than  not,  uninteresting  gloom. 
In  illustration:  Take  two  street-corner  orators. 
Suppose  both  are  talking,  one  a  block  away  from 
the  other,  on  precisely  the  same  topic.  It  is  a 
gloom  topic.  For  instance,  the  question  of  the 
large  number  of  starving  unemployed.  One  of 
the  orators  hammers  away  at  his  audience  with 
melancholy  statistics  and  all  the  other  depressing 
elements  of  his  subject.  The  other,  equally  seri 
ous,  makes  his  points,  not  alone  as  does  the  first 
orator  with  blue  figures,  but  with  light  compari 
sons  and  saucy  illustrations.  Which  is  the  more 
interesting  ?  Which  gets  the  larger  crowd  ?  Which 
convinces?  Take  a  second  and  correlated  illus- 


BOTTOMS   UP  43 

tration.  Two  weekly  magazines  print  articles  on, 
let  us  say,  the  work  of  organized  charity  in  its 
attempt  to  relieve  the  community's  paupers.  In 
itself,  not  particularly  jocose  reading  matter.  One 
of  the  two  magazines,  in  its  treatment  of  the  story, 
has  its  general  tone  exampled  by  some  such  sen 
tence  as  "Last  month  the  charity  organizations  of 
New  York  supplied  the  poor  of  the  city  with 
30,000  loaves  of  bread."  The  other  magazine,  ex 
pressing  the  same  thought  and  facts,  has  its  sen 
tence  phrased  thus:  "Last  month  the  charity  or 
ganizations  of  New  York  supplied  the  poor  of 
the  city  with  30,000  loaves  of  bread,  an  amount 
almost  8,000  in  excess  of  all  the  bread  eaten  dur 
ing  the  same  space  of  time  by  Mr.  Diamond  Jim 
Brady  in  the  ten  leading  Broadway  restaurants." 
Which  magazine  has  the  bigger  circulation? 

The  conventional  treatment  of  gloomy  themes  in 
the  drama  is  like  the  ancient  tale  of  the  proud 
old  coon  who,  driving  a  snail-paced  and  ramshackle 
horse  and  an  even  more  ramshackle  buggy  down  a 
Southern  road  used  largely  by  automobilists,  sud 
denly  perceived  a  small  boy  hitching  on  behind. 
"Hey!"  exclaimed  the  old  brunette,  "Yoh  look  out 
dar  !  Ef  yoh  ain't  careful  yoh'll  be  sucked  under  !" 
The  mechanic  of  the  gloomy  dramatic  theme,  like 
the  old  dinge,  too  often  takes  his  theme  too  pomp 
ously,  too  seriously.  And  is  generally  himself 
sucked  under  as  a  result.  Clyde  Fitch  took  a 
so-called  gloomy  theme  in  his  play  "The  Climbers" 
— the  play  that  started  bang  off  with  a  funeral 
— but  his  play  is  still  going  with  the  public  in  the 
stock  companies  because  he  didn't  let  the  gloom 
of  his  story  run  away  with  the  interest.  The  final 
curtain  line  in  "The  Shadow"  is:  "After  all,  real 
happiness  is  often  to  be  found  in  tears."  Tears 


44  BOTTOMS   UP 

are  often  provocative  of  a  greater  so-called  "up 
lift"  feeling  than  mere  grins  and  laughter.  Take  a 
couple  or  more  of  illustrations  of  the  most  popular 
mob  plays  America  has  known,  say,  "Way  Down 
East/'  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin/'  "The  Old  Home 
stead."  These,  fundamentally,  are  what  the  mob 
calls  "sad"  plays.  The  yokelry  would  ever  rather 
pay  for  the  privilege  of  crying  than  laughing. 
What  farce  ever  made  as  much  money  as  "East 
Lynne"?  The  tears  in  "Cinderella"  have  made  it 
the  world's  most  successful  theatrical  property. 

XL 

The  difference  'twixt  tragedy  and  comedy  is  the 
difference  of  a  hair's  breadth.  Tragedy  ends  with 
the  hero's  death.  Comedy,  with  the  hero's  getting 
married. 

XLI 

To  be  effective,  acting  must  interpret  not  so 
much  the  playwright's  work  as  the  audience's  silent 
criticism  of  that  work. 

XLII 

.  .  .  It  is  to  be  remarked  that  the  New  Move 
ment  in  the  theater,  about  which  we  hear  so  much, 
what  with  its  scenery,  lighting,  stage  architecture 
and  what  not,  seems  to  concern  everything  but 
drama. 

XLIII 

The  moving  pictures  will  never  supplant  the 
spoken  drama,  contend  a  thousand  and  one  critics. 
Well,  anyway,  not  so  long  as  the  drama  is  being 
spoken  as  it  is  to-day  in  the  majority  of  our 
Broadway  theaters. 


BOTTOMS   UP  45 

XLIV 

Madame  Karsavina  of  the  Russian  Ballet  seeks 
in  her  chorographic  pantomimes  to  interpret  drama 
with  the  body.  The  Boston  censors  commanded 
that  Madame  Karsavina,  who  in  her  chorographic 
pantomimes  seeks  to  interpret  drama  with  the 
body,  completely  conceal  her  body  in  heavy  drap 
eries.  The  Boston  censors  may  be  expected  next 
to  command  Mimi  Aguglia,  of  the  Sicilian  Players, 
who  seeks  to  interpret  the  body  in  terms  of  drama, 
to  undress. 

XLV 

Comedy  is  but  tragedy,  cunningly  disguised 
and  popularized  for  the  multitude. 

XLVI 

Men  go  to  the  theater  to  forget;  women,  to  re 
member. 

XLVII 

Melodrama  is  that  form  of  drama  in  which  the 
characters  are  deliberately  robbed  of  a  sense  of 
humor  by  the  author.  Problem  drama,  most  often, 
that  form  in  which  the  characters  are  deliberately 
robbed  of  a  sense  of  humour  by  the  audience. 

XLVIII 

How  ashamed  of  themselves  Galsworthy  and 
Shaw,  Molnar  and  Brieux,  Hauptmann  and  Wede- 
kind  must  feel  when  they  read  a  book  on  dramatic 
technique  by  a  member  of  the  Drama  League ! 

XLIX 

The  error  committed  by  the  critic  who,  night 
after  night,  goes  to  the  theater  in  an  attitude  of 
steadfast  seriousness  and  in  such  attitude  reviews 


46  BOTTOMS   UP 

what  lie  beholds  therein  lies  in  his  confounding 
of  the  presentation  with  the  institution.  His  re 
spectful  attitude  toward  the  presentation  is,  there 
fore,  under  current  conditions  eight  times  in  ten  a 
direct  insult  to  the  institution. 


THE  AMERICAN  ADAPTATION 
The  Plot  of  the  Play,  in  the   Original: 
Gaston  Beaubien  tires  of  his  wife,  Gabrielle,  and 
enters   into   a  liaison  with  his  wife's  best  friend, 
Lucienne. 

The  Plot  of  the  Play,  in  the  Adaptation: 
Gaston  Beaubien  tires  of  his  wife's  best  friend, 
Lucienne,  and  enters  into  a  liaison  with  his  wife, 
Gabrielle. 

LI 
Brieux — Jeanne  d'Arc  on  a  mule. 

LII 

WHY  DRAMATIZED  NOVELS  OFTEN  FAIL 
THE   HEROINE 
(In  the  book) 

"As  nineteen-year-old  Faith  Draycourt  stood 
there,  she  seemed  for  all  the  world  like  some 
breathing,  living  young  goddess  come  down  to  earth 
in  a  chariot  of  cloud  chiffon  tinted  orange-pink  by 
the  setting  sun.  Her  slender  body  whispered  its 
allure  from  out  the  thin  folds  of  silk  that,  like 
some  fugitive  mist,  clung  about  her.  Her  hair,  a 
tangle  of  spun  copper,  fell  upon  her  dimpled 
shoulders  and  tumbled  off  them,  a  stormy  bronze 
cascade,  to  the  ground.  Her  eyes,  like  twin  melo 
dies  of  Saint-Saens  imbedded  in  Bermuda's  blue 
woodland  pools ;  her  voice,  soft  as  the  haunt  of  a 
distant  guitar ." 


BOTTOMS   UP  47 

THE  HEROINE 

(From  the  newspaper  critique  of  the  play  made 
from  the  book) 

"The  role  of  Faith  Draycourt  was  ably  in 
terpreted  by  that  accomplished  and  experienced, 

actress, ,  who  is  well  remembered  by  the 

older  generation  of  theater-goers  for  her  fine  per 
formance  of  Juliet  in  1876  at  the  old  Bowery 
Theater/' 

LIII 

An  arm-chair  beside  a  reading  lamp  is  the  only 
place  for  worth-while  drama.  If  you  are  one  of 
those  who  seriously  contends  that  such  drama 
should  be  acted  in  the  theater,  that  the  stage  is  the 
place  for  such  work,  that  it  stands  a  fair  chance 
there,  tell  me  what  you  think  would  happen  to 
Hauptmann's  "Weavers"  if,  in  that  wonderful  cli 
max  to  the  fifth  act,  the  child  actress  playing 
Mielchen  should  accidentally  drop  her  panties,  or 
to  "Hannele"  if,  at  a  moment  of  its  poignant 
pathos,  a  shirt-sleeved  Irish  scene-shifter  were 
plainly  observable  in  the  wings.  .  .  .  Think  of 
Sudermann's  "Princess  Far-Away"  with  a  bad  cold 
in  her  head  and  an  obviously  tender  corn! 

LIV 

We  hear  much  of  the  difference  twixt  the  qual 
ity  of  London  and  New  York  theater  audiences. 
It  may  be  summed  up  in  a  single  sentence.  In 
London  they  do  not  put  a  chain  on  the  dime-in- 
the-slot  opera-glasses. 

LV 

A  Shaw  Play. — A  moving-picture  consisting  en 
tirely  of  explanatory  titles. 


48  BOTTOMS   UP 

LVI 

You  say  it  is  possible  for  drama  to  reflect  life? 
Very  well,  then  answer  me  this.  In  the  cabled  dis 
patches  from  the  European  fighting  countries, 
there  appeared  the  other  day  an  account  of  the 
astounding  spectacular  heroism,  in  the  face  of  a 
death-filled  fire,  of  a  German  soldier  named  Lud- 
wig  Dinkelblatz.  If  you  can  reconcile  yourself  to 
the  notion  of  a  man  named  Ludwig  Dinkelblatz 
as  the  hero  of  a  play  of  whatever  sort,  you  win. 

LVII 

Mr.  Edward  Locke,  who  wrote  "The  Bubble," 
"The  Revolt,"  and  other  reasons  for  bad  theatrical 
seasons,  observed  in  a  recent  interview  that  he 
always  writes  his  plays  by  artificial  light  because 
plays  are  always  produced  by  artificial  light,  and 
that,  therefore,  he  believed  that  this  was  the  log 
ical  way  to  go  about  writing  plays.  Mr.  Locke 
will  agree  with  his  critics  that  inasmuch  as  people 
always  go  to  bed  in  the  dark,  it  is  but  logical  that, 
when  the  lights  go  out  in  the  auditorium  and  one 
of  his  plays  gets  under  way,  they  should  go  to 
sleep. 

LVIII 

We  hear  a  great  deal  of  the  American  drama's 
failure  to  hold  the  mirror  up  to  nature.  This  is 
nonsense,  nothing  more  nor  less.  The  trouble  is  not 
with  the  drama,  but  with  the  mirror!  The  Amer 
ican  drama  tries  to  reflect  nature  in  one  of  the 
little  mirrors  women  carry  in  their  vanity-boxes. 
Some  day  it  may  learn — as  the  French  drama  has 
learned — that  when  there's  any  reflecting  of  nature 
to  be  done,  you've  got  to  use  a  pier  glass.  We 
like  to  believe,  we  Anglo-Saxons,  that  ^11  drama 


BOTTOMS   UP  49 

lies  in  mortals'  faces,  and  that  drama's  purpose  is 
merely  to  reflect,  as  in  a  shaving  mirror,  men's 
tears  and  smiles.  The  French,  a  wiser  people, 
know  that  drama  reposes  alone  in  men's  bodies. 


FANNY'S  SECOND  PLAY 

NOTE.— In  Bernard  Shaw's  "Fanny's  First 
Play"  there  are  introduced  in  an  epilogue  four 
characters  representing  as  many  dramatic  critics 
of  London — A.  B.  Walkley,  Gilbert  Cannan,  etc. 
These  four  critics  are  made  by  Shaw  to  discuss  the 
play  in  their  four  typical  and  familiar  critical 
ways.  When  the  play  was  produced  in  America  it 
was  suggested  to  Shaw  that  he  come  to  the  United 
States,  study  the  peculiarities  of  the  local  critics, 
and  alter  his  epilogue  so  that  the  indelible  atti 
tudes  toward  everything  dramatic  of  the  native 
criticerei  might  be  lampooned  for  American  audi 
ences.  Shaw  was  too  busy.  Being  possessed  of  an 
hour's  spare  time  and  considerable  presumption, 
the  present  writer  essays  the  task  in  Shaw's  be 
half.  "Fanny's  Second  Play"  may  be  any  anony 
mously  written  play. 

THE  CRITICS 

WILLIAM  SUMMERS  CARLTON  DIXON 

ALSTON  HILL  LAWRENCE  FENEMY 


THE  EPILOGUE 
FENEMY 

You  ask  me  if  I  like  the  play.  How  do  I  know! 
If  it's  by  a  foreigner,  sure  I  like  it;  but  if  it's  by 
an  American  (particularly  a  young  American)  you 
can  bet  I'll  roast  it.  Why,  it's  got  to  the  point 
where  some  of  these  young  American  playwrights 
are  getting  to  be  better  known  than  we  are,  and 
I'll  be  darned  if  I'm  going  to  do  anything  to  help 
the  thing  along. 

50 


BOTTOMS  UP  51 

HILL 

You're  right,  Fenemy.  Besides,  they  know  how 
to  do  these  things  so  much  better  abroad  than  our 
writers  do.  Take  this  play.  Pretty  good,  to  be 
sure.  But  I'll  wager  it  was  written  by  some  fel 
low  who  used  to  be  a  reporter — probably  on  my 
very  paper.  And  I'm  not  going  to  be  the  one  to 
give  him  the  swelled  head.  No,  sir ! 

DIXON 

If  Belasco  had  only  produced  this  play  it  would 
have  been  a  wonder.  Belasco's  a  wizard.  I 
know  it,  because  he  has  repeatedly  told  me  so  him 
self. 

SUMMERS 

Ah,  gentlemen — gentlemen.  Why  indulge  in  this 
endless  colloquy  over  this  insignificant  proscenium 
tidbit.  Let  us  remember  that  howsoever  good  it 
may  be  it  was  still  not  written  by  Shakespeare  and 
that  however  ably  it  may  have  been  interpreted, 
Booth  and  Barrett  and  Charlotte  Cushman,  alas, 
are  no  longer  with  us. 

HILL 

Oh,  you're  a  back-number,  Summers.  You're  no 
critic — you're  a  scholar!  Why  don't  you  put  a 
punch  in  your  stuff  and  get  a  good  job? 

FENEMY 

I  wonder  if  it's  possible  this  play's  meant  to  be 
satirical.  I'll  read  what  you  say  about  it  in  the 
morning,  Hill,  and  if  you  think  it's  a  satire,  I'll 
see  it  again  and  sort  o'  edit  my  opinion  of  it  in 
the  Sunday  edition. 

DIXON 

I  must  say  again  that  I'm  sorry  Belasco  didn't 
produce  the  play.  He's  a  genius.  Look  what  he 


52  BOTTOMS   UP 

did  for  The  Easiest  Way.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
his  lighting  effects  the  show  wouldn't  have  stood 
a  chance! 

FENEMY 

You're  right,  Dixon.  Anyway,  The  Easiest  Way 
was  just  like  Iris.  Our  writers  can't  touch  the 
English.  Besides,  Pinero's  got  a  title  and  Eugene 
Walter,  we  must  remember,  once  slept  on  a  bench 
in  Bryant  Park. 

HILL 

I  like  the  title  of  this  piece  though,  fellows. 
Fanny's  Second  Play.  It'll  give  me  the  chance  to 
say  in  my  review  of  it:  "Fanny's  Second  Play 
won't  go  for  a  minute."  Catch  it?  Second — min 
ute.  Great,  isn't  it?  I  like  plays  with  titles  you 
can  crack  jokes  about. 

SUMMERS 

Alack-a-day,  things  are  not  in  criticism  as  they 
used  to  be.  Dignity,  my  friends,  is  what  I  always 
aimed  for — dignity  and  dullness.  Poor  Daly  is 
dead  and  poor  Wallack  sleeps  in  his  grave. 
Schoolboys,  mere  schoolboys  and  shopkeepers  run 
the  drama  of  to-day. 

HILL 

Oh,  cut  it  out.  Dan  Daly  wasn't  half  as  good  a 
comedian  as  Eddie  Foy  is !  And  Shakespeare — 
why  the  only  time  that  any  interest  in  Shakespeare 
has  been  aroused  in  the  last  ten  years  was  when 
Julia  Marlowe  and  Sothern  got  married.  Give 
me  Sutro. 

DIXON 

But  as  I  was  saying,  Belasco's  the  man!  Shakes 
peare  in  his  palmiest  moments  never  imagined  a 


BOTTOMS   UP  53 

greater  effect  than  that  soft  lamp-light  that  Bel- 
asco  put  over  the  chess  table  in  the  last  act  of 
The  Concert. 

FENEMY 

Correct  again,  Dixon !  Do  you  think  Belasco 
would  use  German  silver  knives  and  forks  on  a 
dinner  table  in  a  play  of  his?  Nix!  The  real 
stuff  for  him!  Sterling!  And  you  can  say  what 
you  want,  it's  attention  to  details  like  that  that 
makes  a  play.  I  suppose  Fanny's  Second  Play 
may  be  pretty  good  drama,  but  I  never  had  any 
experience  like  the  hero  in  the  show  and  by 
George,  I  don't  believe  it  could  have  happened! 
Besides,  my  sister  never  acted  that  way  and  con 
sequently  I  must  put  the  whole  thing  down  as  rub 
bish.  The  author  doesn't  understand  human  na 
ture.  No,  sir,  he  doesn't  understand  human 
nature ! 

HILL 

The  society  atmosphere,  too,  is  perfectly  ridicu 
lous.  Why,  I've  been  in  the  As  tor  as  many  as  five 
times  and  I  never  saw  any  society  people  act  that 
way.  Our  American  playwrights  are  not  gentle 
men,  that's  the  rub. 

SUMMERS 

Ah  me,  when  Sarah  Siddons  and  Clara  Morris 
and  Ada  Rehan  were  in  their  prime — those  were 
the  days !  What  use  longer,  I  ask  you,  gentlemen, 
to  inscribe  praise  to  actresses  if  one  is  no  more 
invited  to  meals  by  them?  Times  have  changed. 
This  Mr.  Cohan,  paugh !  This  Miss  Barrymore, 
fie!! 

DIXON 

Sure  thing!  Warfield's  the  only  one  left  who  can 
act  and  Belasco  taught  him  all  he  knows.  Belasco 


54  BOTTOMS   UP 

— there's  the  wizard!  Did  you  notice  the  way  he 
got  that  amber  light  effect  in  Seven  Chances? 
Wonderful,  I  say,  wonderful . 

FENEMY 

(interrupting) 

But  did  you  ever  smoke  one  of  George  Tyler'* 
cigars  ? 

HILL 

About  this  play  we  saw  tonight.  I  kind  of  think 
I'll  have  to  let  it  down  a  bit  easy  because  the 
management's  taken  out  a  double-sized  ad.  in  the 
Sunday  edition.  And  besides,  say  it  should  turn 
out  next  week  to  be  by  an  English  dramatist  in 
stead  of  an  American!  Then  wouldn't  we  feel 
foolish! 

DIXON 

(vehemently) 

Well,  we  know  who  the  producer  is !  Isn't  that 
enough?  If  it's  put  on  by  Belasco,  it's  great;  if 
it's  put  on  by  anybody  else,  it's  a  frost — and  there 
you  are.  That  is,  anybody  but  Klaw  and  Erlanger. 
No  use  throwing  the  hooks  into  them  too  hard. 
They  pull  too  much  influence  with  our  bosses. 

HILL 

(with  a  self-amused  grin) 

I  wonder  what  the  magazine  er-um-um  critics,  as 
they  choose  to  call  themselves,  will  think  of  this 
play? 

DIXON 

Humph !  Magazine  critics  ?  Why  they're  all  young 
fellows.  Impudent,  too!  They  think  that  just  be 
cause  they're  educated  they  know  more  about  the 
game  than  we  do — than  I  do — and  I've -had  my 


BOTTOMS   UP  55 

opinions  quoted  on  as  many  as  two  hundred  garb 
age  cans  in  one  week! 

SUMMERS 

Ah,  dear  me,  gentlemen.  In  my  time,  a  critic  was 
a  person  with  a  taste  for  drama;  to-day  a  critic  is 
largely  a  person  with  a  taste  for  quotation  in  the 
Shubert  ads. 

FENEMY 

(to  the  others,  tapping  his  temple  significantly 

with  his  forefinger) 

The  poor  chap  actually  thinks  Moliere  knew  more 
about  playwriting  than  Jules  Eckert  Goodman! 

HILL  and  DIXON 
(laughing  uproariously) 

Fine!  Fine!!  Better  use  that  line  in  your  review 
tomorrow.  Of  course  it  hasn't  anything  to  do  with 
Fanny's  Second  Play,  but  that  doesn't  matter. 
It's  too  good  to  lose. 

HILL 

By  the  way,  the  Dramatic  Mirror  wrote  me  for 
my  picture  to-day.  They're  going  to  print  it  in 
the  next  number.  Pretty  good,  eh? 

FENEMY 

I  should  say  yes!  I  wish  I  could  get  as  much 
advertising  as  you  get,  Hill. 

HILL 
(suddenly  ) 

By  Jove!  An  idea!  What  if  this  play  we  saw  to 
night  was  written  by  Belasco,  after  all? 

SUMMERS 
Impossible,  gentlemen.     Had  Mr.  Belasco  written 


56  BOTTOMS   UP 

it,  we  should  have  had  an  inkling  of  the  fact 
through  the  recent  lawsuit  calendars. 

FENEMY 

Maybe  it's  by  Augustus  Thomas.  It's  got  a  lot  of 
thought  in  it! 

HILL 

Yes,  it  certainly  is  full  of  thought ! 

DIXON 

Sure,  it's  got  a  pile  of  thought  in  it  all  right 
enough ! 

SUMMERS 

(lifting  his  eyebrows) 
What  thought,  gentlemen? 

FENEMY 

Didn't  you  catch  that  curious  new  word  in  the 
second  act?  What  was  it,  Dixon? 

HILL 

Psychothrapy. 

DIXON 

No,  you  mean  psychothrupy. 

FENEMY 
No,  no,  it  is  psychothripy. 

SUMMERS 
Gentlemen,  you  mean  psychotherapy. 

ALL 

Well,  it  doesn't  matter.  It's  thought,  anyway — 
something  snappy  and  new.  And  Augustus  Thomas 
is  the  only  American  playwright  who  thinks. 


BOTTOMS   UP  57 

DIXON 

Did  you  notice  that  reference  to  the  "sweet  and 
noble  mother"?  /  think  Roi  Cooper  Megrue  wrote 
it — and  I  don't  like  Megrue.  He's  too  fat  look 
ing.  I  think  the  play  is  punk. 

HILL 

But  that  third  act  attempted  seduction  climax 
sounds  to  me  like  Sheldon. 

DIXON 

(quickly) 

Oh,  then  the  play's  all  right! 

HILL 

But  we  must  remember  that  Sheldon  is  a  young 
man  and  that  he  is  a  Harvard  graduate.  He  needs 
taking  down  a  little. 

DIXON 

But  he's  a  good  friend  of  my  dear  friend  Mrs. 
.  Anyway,  if  only  Belasco . 

FENEMY 

(interrupting) 

Well,  I've  got  to  get  down  to  the  office  and  write 
my  review. 

(looking  at  watch) 

It's  got  to  be  in  at  twelve  o'clock  and  it's  ten 
minutes  of  twelve  now,  and  I've  got  to  fill  a 
column. 

(exits) 

HILL 
Between  us,  Dixon,  I  personally  enjoyed  this  play 


58  BOTTOMS  UP 

immensely;  but  professionally,   I  think  it's  very 
bad. 

DIXON 

My  idea  exactly.    Of  course,  if  Belasco . 

(Exeunt) 


GLOSSARIES 

I 

A  Vaudeville  Glossary 

(Embracing  Translations  and  Explanations  of 
Such  words  and  Phrases  as  Are  Used  Regu 
larly  in  Vaudeville,  and  Necessary  to  a  Com 
prehension  of  Vaudeville  by  Persons  Who  Do 
Not  Wear  Soft  Pleated  Shirts  with  Dinner 
Jackets.) 

Knock-out — The  designation  of  a  performance 
which  has  succeeded  in  completely  captivating  the 
advertising  solicitor  for  a  weekly  vaudeville  paper. 

Wop — A  term  of  derision  directed  at  an  Italian 
who  earns  a  difficult  livelihood  digging  ten  hours 
a  day  at  subways  by  an  American  actor  who  earns 
an  easy  livelihood  digging  twenty  minutes  a  night 
at  Ford  automobiles. 

A  scream — The  designation  of  an  allusion  to  the 
Prince  of  Denmark  in  Shakespeare's  celebrated 
tragedy  as  "omelet." 

Team — A  term  applied  to  two  vaudeville  actors 
who  get  twice  as  much  money  as  they  deserve. 

Sure-fire — A  compound  word  employed  to  de 
scribe  any  allusion  to  President  Wilson  or  the  per 
former's  mother. 

Swell — An  adjective  used  to  describe  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  gentleman  performer  who  wears  a 
diamond  stud  in  his  batwing  tie  or  of  a  lady  per 
former  who  is  able  to  pronounce  "caviar"  cor 
rectly. 

Artiste — A  vaudeville  actress  who  carries  her 
own  plush  curtain. 

59 


60  BOTTOMS   UP 

Dresden-China  Comedienne  —  Any  vaudeville 
actress  who  is  not  a  comedienne  and  who  wears  a 
poke  bonnet  fastened  under  the  chin  with  pale 
blue  ribbons. 

Headliner — A  performer  of  whom  audiences  in 
the  legitimate  theatres  have  wearied. 

Society's  Pet — -The  designation  of  any  young 
woman  performer  who  has  danced  in  a  Broadway 
restaurant  that  was  visited  one  evening  by  a  slum 
ming  party  from  Fifth  Avenue. 

Mind-reader  —  A  vaudeville  performer  who 
imagines  the  members  of  a  vaudeville  audience 
have  minds  to  read. 

II 

A  First-Night  Glossary 

Rotten — An  adjective  used  to  describe  any 
thing  good. 

Author — A  noun  used  to  designate  the  person 
who,  in  response  to  the  applause,  comes  out  upon 
the  stage  after  the  second  act  in  a  conspicuously 
new  Tuxedo  and  talks  as  if  he  had  written  a  play. 

Laugh — A  noise  uttered  by  the  audience  when 
ever  the  comedian,  casting  an  eye  upon  the  prima 
donna's  hinter-decollete,  ejaculates,  "I'm  glad  to 
see  your  back  again." 

Grate — Something  that  is  used  to  warm  up  vau 
deville  sketches. 

Wholesome — An  adjective  used  to  describe  any 
play  which  sacrifices  art  to  morals. 

Dramatic — An  adj  ective  used  to  describe  a  scene 
in  which  anything,  from  a  vase  to  the  seventl^  com 
mandment,  is  broken. 


BOTTOMS   UP  61 

Sympathy — The  emotion  felt  by  the  audience 
for  the  woman  character  who  lies,  betrays,  robs, 
deceives,  steals,  poisons,  cheats,  swindles,  com 
mits  adultery,  plays  false,  stabs,  dupes  or  murders 
— in  a  beautiful  gown. 

Program — A  pamphlet  which  assures  the  audi 
ence  that  the  theatre  is  disinfected  of  germs  with 
CN  Disinfectant  and  that  the  play  is  disinfected 
of  drama  with  actors. 

Ill 

A  Glossary  of  British  Slang 

When  George  Ade's  "College  Widow"  was  pro 
duced  in  London  several  years  ago,  a  section  of  the 
program  was  devoted  to  a  glossary  of  American 
slang.  The  British  equivalents  for  the  various 
specimens  of  Yankee  vernacular  were  thus  pro 
vided,  so  that  the  audience  might  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  the  words  spoken  by  the  characters  in 
the  play.  By  way  of  helping  American  audiences 
to  a  better  understanding  of  the  British  vulgate, 
I  append  a  reciprocating  glossary: 

Actor — A  war-time  patriot  who  shouts  "God 
Save  the  King"  as  he  hurries  aboard  the  first 
steamer  out  of  Southampton  to  accept  an  engage 
ment  in  an  American  musical  comedy  adapted  from 
the  German. 

Beastly — A  condemnatory  adjective  applied  by 
an  actor  (see  above)  to  the  treatment  accorded  an 
actor  (see  above)  by  Americans  during  his  engage 
ment  in  an  American  musical  comedy  adapted  from 
the  German,  after  the  actor  (see  above)  has  re 
turned  to  England  following  a  declaration  of 
peace. 


62 


BOTTOMS   UP 


Handkerchief — A  small  square  of  linen  with 
which,  when  he  has  (or  hasn't)  a  cold,  an  Eng 
lishman  blows  his  wrist. 

Old  Top — A  term  of  endearment  applied  by  an 
actor  (see  above)  to  an  American  who  seems  to  be 
about  to  buy  a  drink. 

IV 
A  General  Theatrical  Glossary 

sardou  (v.t.)  —1.   To  lock  the  door  and  chase 

a  reluctant  lady  around  the 
room. 

-1.  To  spoil  an  otherwise  good 
play.  2.  To  endorse  a  new 
massage  cream.  3.  To 
please  William  Winter. 

-1.  A  bad  play.  2.  A  d — n 
bad  play.  3.  A  h — 1  of  a 
d — n  bad  play. 

-1.  To  leap  headlong  out  of  a 
window.  2.  To  lick  three 
men  with  one  hand. 

-1.  To  compel  favorable  critical 
notices  by  having  beautiful 
eyes. 


act  (v.i.) 

Success  (n) 
fairbanks  (v.t.) 
doro  (v.i.) 
al woods  (v.t.) 


•1.  To  foil  a  villain, 
foil  two  villains, 
foil  three  villains. 


8. 


To 
To 


STORIES  OF  THE  OPERAS 

I  PAGLIACCI 

(e  pal-yat-che) 
Two-act  drama;  text  and  music  by   Leoncavallo 

CHARACTERS 

CANIO Tenor 

TONIO Baritone 

BEPPO Tenor 

NEDDA  (Canio's  wife) Soprano 

SILVIO  (a  villager) Baritone 

THE  STORY 
Act  I 

At  Tonio's  signal,  the  curtains  open  disclosing  a 
cross-roads  with  a  rude  portable  theatre  and  Mrs. 
Cornelius  Vanderbilt  with  a  party  of  debutantes. 
The  distant  sounds  of  a  cracked  trumpet  and  be 
labored  drum  call  the  peasants  together,  and  they 
greet  with  joy  the  familiar  characters  in  whose 
costumes  Canio,  Nedda,  and  Beppo  enter  simul 
taneously  with  Mrs.  O.  H.  P.  Belmont's  party, 
Mrs.  Otto  Kahn's  party,  Mrs.  Goelet,  in  mauve 
faille  d'amour  silk,  and  a  party  of  young  people 
chaperoned  by  Mrs.  Douglas  Robinson.  Silencing 
the  crowd  (on  the  stage),  Canio  announces  the 
play  for  the  evening — and  is  heard.  Canio  de 
scends  and  boxes  the  ears  of  Tonio,  who  loves 
Nedda.  Tonio,  and  two  old  gentlemen  of  decided 
snoring  proclivities  who  have  been  sitting  in  the 
eighth  row,  wander  off.  A  villager  invites  the 
players  to  drink.  Twenty-seven  gentlemen  in  the 

63 


64  BOTTOMS  UP 

audience  accept  the  invitation.  The  villager  hints 
that  Tonio  lingers  to  flirt  with  Nedda,  and  the 
ladies  in  the  boxes  also  get  busy  with  recent  scan 
dal.  Canio  takes  it  as  a  joke,  twenty-one  of  the 
twenty-seven  gentlemen  taking  it  with  water. 
Canio  says  he  loves  his  wife.  And,  after  kissing 
her,  he  departs  coincident  with  the  arrival  of  the 
occupants  of  the  Gould  and  Sloane  boxes.  The 
other  peasants,  and  forty-two  other  gentlemen, 
leave  the  scene. 

Nedda,  left  alone,  broods  over  the  fierce  look 
which  Canio  and  Gatti  Casazza  gave  her.  She 
wonders  if  Canio  suspects  her.  The  sunlight  and 
the  new  gown  and  necklace  on  Mrs.  Payne  Whit 
ney  thrill  her  and  she  revels  in  the  song  and  the 
sport  of  the  birds  ("Ballatella").  At  the  end  of 
the  rhapsody  she  finds  that  the  hideous  Tonio,  if 
not  the  audience,  has  been  listening.  He  makes 
ardent  love,  but  she  laughs  him  to  scorn.  He 
pursues  her,  however,  and  she,  picking  up  Beppo's 
whip,  slashes  him  across  the  face.  He  swears  re 
venge  and  stumbles  away.  Now  her  secret  lover, 
Silvio,  steals  in  with  the  twenty-seven  gentlemen 
who  have  been  over  to  Browne's.  Silvio  pleads 
with  her  to  go  away  with  him.  She  promises  in 
an  undertone  to  meet  him  that  night  at  Del  Pezzo's 
Italian  Restaurant  at  the  corner  of  Seventh  Ave 
nue  and  Thirty-fourth  Street.  Tonio,  having  seen 
them,  hurries  away.  He  gets  the  ear  of  Canio  and 
returns  coincidently  with  thirty-four  of  some 
forty-odd  gentlemen  who  have  been  across  the 
street.  Silvio,  however,  escapes  unnoticed  and  so 
do  the  two  old  gentlemen  who  have  been  sleeping 
in  the  eighth  row. 

Canio  threatens  to  kill  Nedda  and  Leoncavallo's 
music.  Beppo  and  one  of  the  old  gentlemen  who 


BOTTOMS   UP  65 

has  forgotten  his  overcoat  rush  back.  Beppo  dis 
arms  Canio.  Tonio  hints  that  Nedda's  lover  may 
appear  that  night  in  the  play  and  some  bizarre 
looking  ladies  in  the  third  row  hint  a  lot  of  other 
things.  Left  alone,  Canio  bewails  his  bitter  fate, 
and  the  gentlemen  whose  wives  won't  let  them  get 
out  do  the  same.  In  wild  grief,  Canio  finally 
gropes  his  way  off.  And  such  gentlemen  as  are 
left  in  the  audience  follow  suit. 

(To  be  continued) 


THREE  MODERN  DRAMATISTS 

BRIEUX 
Act  1 


,t 

Act  III 

i    f    f    f    t 


BELASCO 

Act  I 

The  Hampton  Shops 
The  Edison  Electrical  Supplies  Co. 

Act  II 

The  Tiffany  Studios 

Thorley 
The  Edison  Electrical  Supplies  Co. 

Act  III 
Vantine's 

The  Antique   Objets   d'Art  Exchange 
The  Edison  Electrical  Supplies  Co. 


SHAW 
Act  I 


Act  II 

pn^ujj 

Act  III 

^n 

66 


VILLAINY 


The  villainy  of  a  character  in  the  American 
drama  is  appraised  by  an  American  audience  in 
accordance  with  the  following  schedule  of  black 
marks : 


1.  Black    mous 
tache  20  points 

2.  Riding   boots.. 86     " 

3.  Riding     boots 

and   crop 47     " 

4.  Foreign  accent 
(save  Irish). ...29     " 

5.  Top  hat 8     " 

6.  Patent-leather 
shoes    8     " 

7.  Long  cigarette 
holder   4     - 

8.  Well     fitting 
clothes 52     " 

9.  Sexual  virility .84     " 

10.  Good  manners.76     " 

11.  Inclination    to 
believe   that  a 
woman     over 
twenty  is  per 
fectly   able   to 
take    care    of 
herself 91     " 

12.  Inclination     to 
believe  that   a 
woman     over 
twenty-five    i  s 
perfectly    able 
to  take  care  of 
herself  92     " 

18.  IncKnation  to 
believe  that  a 
woman  over 
thirty  is  per 


fectly  able  to 
take  care  of 
herself  98  " 

14.  Inclination     to 
believe     that 
women    be 
tween  the  ages 
of      thirty-five 
and  ninety  are 
perfectly    able 
to  take  care  of 
themselves    ...94     " 

15.  Inclination     to 
believe     that 
women    be 
tween  the  ages 
of  twenty  and 
ninety  are  per 
fectly   able   to 
take     care     of 
themselves     i  f 
they    want    to, 
but    that   they 
usually     don't 

want  to 95  points 

16.  One    who    be- 
1  i  e  v  e  s      that 
when  a  woman 
is  married  she 
does  not  neces 
sarily    because 
of    this    fact 
lose   all   inter- 
est    in    the 
world  82     « 


67 


68  BOTTOMS   UP 


16a.  Or  in  a  good  19.  Verbal     state- 
time  83  "  ment    of    the 

IT.  Boutonniere  . .  9  "  above   fact  by 

18.  Suspicion     on  the  villain   •••" 

the    part    of  20.  Common 

the  viUain  that  sense    100 

the  hero   is   a 

blockhead  .   ..98  " 


A  FRENCH  VEST  POCKET 
DICTIONARY 

Containing  such  words  and  phrases,  together  with 
their  pronunciation  and  meaning,  as  are  necessary 
to  the  proper  and  complete  understanding  of  the 
American  "society  play"  in  which  they  are  gen 
erally  employed. 


Word  or  Phrase 
beau  ideal 

au  fait 


Pronunciation 
hue  idol 

aw  fete 


comme  il  faut         comma  ill  faugh 


billet  doux 


bon  soir 
valet 


ennui 


Billie  Deuce 


bun  sour 
valley 


Meaning 

To  smoke  a  cigar- 
ette  in  a  long 
holder. 

To  wear  an  arti 
ficial  gardenia  in 
the  lapel  of  one's 
evening  coat. 

Literally:  "As  it 
should  be."  To 
appear  in  the 
drawing-room  in 
white  tennis  flan 
nels. 

Anything  written 
on  lavender  sta 
tionery. 

Greetings ! 

A  comedy  -  relief 
Jap. 

To  glance  non 
chalantly  through 
Town  Topics, 
yawn  and  throw 
it  back  on  the 
table. 


69 


70 


BOTTOMS  UP 


Word  or  Phrase        Pronunciation 
egg-all-light 


double  entente  dub'l  on-tunder 

distingu£  dis-tang-way 

Cel6ste*  Seal-lest 

coup  d'etat  coop  de  tate 


gendarme  John  Domme 


entr6e 
faux  pas 

petite 


entry 
for  Pa 

potate 


*  The  maid. 


Meaning 

Literally:  "equal 
ity."  A  servant 
who,  learning 
that  his  master  is 
in  financial 
straits,  offers 
him,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  his  own 
meagre  savings. 

Any  remark 
about  a  bed. 

A  gentleman  with 
a  goatee. 

The  lady-friend 
of  the  producer. 

Sneaking  the 
married  heroine 
unobserved  out  of 
the  bachelor 
apartment  by 
letting  her  wear 
the  housekeeper's 
cloak. 

An  English  actor 
in  a  New  York 
traffic  police- 
man's  uniform. 

A  papier-mach6 
duck. 

To  wear  the 
handkerchief  i  n 
the  pocket. 

Designation  o  f 
the  one  hundred 
and  seventy-two 
pound  ingenue. 


BOTTOMS   UP 


71 


Word  or  Phrase        Pronunciation 
qui  vive  key  weave 


sang  froid  sang  freud 


garcon 


gar-sun 


en  deshabi!16  N.  de  Shabell 


mesalliance  mess  alliance 


en  regie 


in  riggle 


a  la  mode 


allah  mode 


Meaning 

To  step  quickly 
on  tiptoe  to  the 
door  and  listen, 
before  going  on 
with  the  conver 
sation. 

Leisurely  to  ex 
tract  a  cigarette 
from  a  gold  ci 
garette-case. 

A  bad  actor  who 
imitates  Figman's 
performance  i  n 
"Divorcons." 

Literally:  "In  un 
dress."  That  is, 
dressed  up  in  a 
couple  of  thou 
sand  dollars' 
worth  of  lingerie. 

Any  girl  whom 
the  son  of  the 
family  desires,  in 
the  first  act,  to 
marry. 

A  butler  who 
waits  until  the 
visitor  has  en 
tered  the  draw 
ing-room  before 
taking  his  hat 
and  stick. 

Tea  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon. 


WHAT    YOU    GET    FOR    YOUR 
MONEY 

The  box-office  price  of  a  theatre  ticket  is  two 
dollars.  The  average  play  runs  from  8.25  until 
10.55 — in  other  words,  about  two  hours  and  a  half. 
A  total,  that  is,  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  minutes. 
The  intermissions  between  the  acts  amount,  at  a 
rough  estimate,  to  a  total  of  about  thirty-five 
minutes.  Subtract  the  thirty-five  minutes  from  the 
one  hundred  and  fifty  minutes,  and  we  have  left 
one  hundred  and  fifteen  minutes.  You  pay,  there 
fore,  two  dollars  for  one  hundred  and  fifteen  min 
utes  of  entertainment,  or  about  one  and  three- 
quarters  cents  a  minute.  Let  us  now  see  what  you 
get  for  your  money,  and  also  the  equivalent  of 
what  you  could  get  for  it  did  you  spend  it  in  other 
directions.  A  few  illustrations  may  suffice  to  make 
one  pause  and  reflect: 


"Oh,  oh,  what  have  I  done  that  I 
should  be  made  to  suffer  so !  It  was 
because  I  love  you  that  I  acted  as 
I  did !  But — you  don't  understand ; 
you  won't  understand ! !  (Buries 
her  face  in  her  arms.  He  goes  to 
mantel  and  stands  gazing  abstract 
edly  into  the  grate.)  If  only  I 
could  make  you  see!  Jim,  oh  Jim, 
please — for  our  children's  sake!" 

72 


1  glass 

of 
Pilsner 


BOTTOMS  UP 


73 


II 

"And  to  think,  darling,  that  you- 
mistrusted  me!  To  think  you  did 
not  know  from  the  first  moment  I 
saw  you,  in  your  youth  and  beauty, 
that  I  loved  you!  Your  money? 
BAH!  It's  you  I  love,  sweetheart, 
with  every  fibre  of  my  being — you, 
you!  (He  strains  her  to  him.) 
Come  into  these  arms,  dear,  these 
arms  that  have  longed  to  clasp  you 
within  them.  They  shall  ever  be 
your  haven  from  the  toil  and  tur 
moil  of  the  world.  They  shall  pro 
tect  you  from  temptation.  I  love 
you;  I  love  you!"  (He  kisses  her 
passionately.) 

Ill 

"Listen,  Hubert;  it  is  but  right  you 
should  know  before  you  judge  me. 
I  wasn't  immoral;  I  was  merely 
unmoral.  I  trusted  him  and  he 
(she  averts  his  gaze)  deceived  me. 
I  was  a  girl,  Hubert,  a  mere  ten 
der  girl.  He  painted  for  my  inno 
cent  eyes  the  splendor  of  a  great 
career  and  I — I  believed  him.  You 
must  believe  me,  Hubert,  you  must 
believe  me!  I  didn't  know — I 
didn't  know!!  I  believed  him!  You 
must  believe  me,  Hubert,  you  must, 
you  must!  Look  into  my  eyes  and 
see  for  yourself  it  is  the  truth  I 
am  telling  you! 


1  glass 

of 
Wurzburger 


1  glass 

of 
Hofbrau 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


RECEfV 


MAY 


;.  '67 


;CEIVE:D 


ED 


LD  21A-60m-7/66 
(G4427slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


F67699 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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